The birth of a nation
by PuffinPixel
Summary: Do you ever wonder where the personifications came from? Everything that exists has a beginning and an end. To create, you must first sacrifice something.
1. Danmark A wish granted

He remembers being so happy, so free. The boy's family lived in a village by a cliff overlooking the sea. Life was calm and peaceful in the small settlement. Rarely did any strangers come by, but they were always accommodating those few times they had visitors. He remembered all the stories the strangers told him, of battles and life on the road.  
As peaceful and wonderful his life was, it lacked any real adventure. He wanted to be one of those adventurers. The ones who wandered the land and fought for his life against weather and beasts.  
He remembers the intense wish for something new and exciting to happen.  
And something did.

It was the screams that woke him. Horrifying, inhumane screams all around him. He sat up in bed, immediately alert. He could hear those screams cut short by something. A growl?  
He wanted to leave. To run, or hide.  
But his legs wouldn't move. All he could do was tremble with fear and whimper. What was happening? Where was his father and mother? His sister? Why was he all alone in this awful screaming?  
He hugged his knees close to his chest and wept as silently as he could. He could do nothing else.  
Then, there were frantic footsteps right outside their door. Someone was pounding on their door.  
The boy managed to press himself close to the wall and closed his eyes tightly.  
If he didn't see it, it would be over quickly, right?  
The sound of a breaking door greeted him, and he quickly decided that he shouldn't hear it either. So he covered his ears, and cursed himself as a whimper escaped his trembling lips.  
Then, someone was shaking him. He opened his eyes and stared back at his sister. She looked worried, tired. Like she had just ran all the way down to the beach and back up.  
She was saying something, but the boy couldn't hear her. He removed his hands from his ears, but he could still not hear her. Strange.  
He watched as she bit her lip, and pulled him up. She was yelling now, urgently. He could still not hear her.  
She suddenly turned around and marched over to the door, dragging him with her. Before they walked out, she grabbed their father's sword.  
Why would she need that? What was going on?

The sight that greeted him was not pretty. It was not like he had imagined in the stories he was told. People bled more than he thought.  
There was the little girl next door, bleeding out on the ground.  
There was the old man, lying against his house with something through his chest. He wasn't moving.  
So many of his playmates were lying around, or desperately trying to crawl away from something.  
His sister didn't stop. She ran through all this, not sparing anyone a moment of her time. The fires didn't stop her, the screaming and moaning didn't stop her.  
The big shadow however, did stop her.  
A large man with a big sword was blocking their way. He grinned at the two siblings, and raised his sword.  
His sister pushed the boy to the side and drew their father's short sword. She was yelling again. What was she saying? Why was this happening?  
The boy didn't understand. The air felt hot against his skin. The wind carried a rotting smell. Burned flesh.  
The only sound the boy could hear was the man laughing as his sister's head hit the ground.  
Then he ran. Suddenly it was like his body had understood what his head was screaming at him from the very start. Run. Get away. Live, live, live!  
All his senses had become hypersensitive. He could hear every footstep, every cough and moan. Every laugh and the sound of iron scraping against iron.  
He could see every detail. How the blood stained the grass. How flesh curled as it burned. How it blackened, how it looked an awful lot like the food they would burn over the fire.  
He could feel the warm air, the burning sparks as they hit his cheek, his hand. They didn't matter. His instincts were screaming at him. Run, run, run!  
So he ran. Ran as fast as he could past screaming children, moaning farmers. Past everyone he could have helped. Past the last house of the settlement and towards the cliff.  
The sea was salvation. The sea was safety, sanctuary.  
He had to jump, he knew. He didn't have any other way to make it down to the beach. Not with that monster following him.  
The boy turned around at the sound of heavy rattling. It was the monster. The big man who so easily killed his sister. He studied the boy, then he laughed.  
He had to be a beast, the boy reasoned. There was no way another human like him would do this to harmless people. His eyes looked so wild, so inhuman.  
The boy readied himself to jump, but then the monster opened its mouth.  
"Oh, look" came the mocking snarl. "He's trying to get away. How pathetic."  
Another laugh escaped the monster's lips, and the boy felt confused. It knew his language. It could speak, and understand him. Why would it attack? Why would it kill so many innocent people?  
"You won't survive the fall. Go on, try. I'll wait" the monster grinned, it's wild eyes flashing in the flames.  
The boy hesitated. What if the monster was right? What if he jumped, and the waves would crush him against the rocks? Was all this pointless?  
His confusion and fear must have shown plainly on his face, because the monster barked out another loud laugh. Mocking him, cornering him.  
"The little piggy can't even do it" it seethed. "Why, maybe he needs a little nudge."  
The monster sprang forward, and suddenly the boy felt like all air had escaped him. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with his chest.  
He looked down, and saw iron. There wasn't supposed to be iron in his chest. There wasn't supposed to be iron inside him.  
He could feel something wet running down his chest and back. But it wasn't raining. How could he be wet?  
Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. He couldn't feel his lungs filling with air anymore. His vision clouded slowly.  
The monster yanked his hand back, and the iron disappeared from his chest. He felt his body tilt backwards, and gravity grabbing hold of him. Pulling him down, down, down.  
The last thing to escape his lips was a weak, whimpering.  
" _Why?_ " 

Floating.  
This sensation was floating. Drifting. Up and down, in sync with the waves. The sea. Mother to all life.  
Singing. Someone was singing. A sorrowful tune, slow and melodic. A beautiful tragedy.  
The words were not of the human language. It promised absolute truth and wisdom, something more profound and older than any human there was.  
More sounds. Water crashing towards land. The blubbing sound of fish. The sound of sand moving back and forth, polishing the rougher rocks along the seabed.  
Moving creatures, using their powerful fins to push forward in the currents.  
Touch. There were scales sliding against skin. Small fish nibbling on toes. Hands moving across a cheek.  
Hands?  
Finally, sight. The sunlight forcing its way through the water. Demanding reach to even the deepest oceans. It shone so brilliantly. The hand kept stroking. The song was coming to an end, it's tones tragic and drawn out. Then, it stopped.  
The boy coughed, and twitched. The hand disappeared rapidly, and he tried to position himself in the water. He turned to gaze upon his savior, but could only see a humanoid shape disappear into the blue. A woman with scales.  
Something was different. Something had changed. The boy kicked his legs, and broke the surface of the water. Sound came crashing into him like a tidal wave. It sounded like several people talking all at once. The boy looked around in confusion. There was no one here, yet he could hear them. All of them. He could feel them laughing, crying, hurting.  
In panic, he dove under the water again, and found that the sound was muffled. replaced by calm water, brushing against his skin.  
Something was very wrong indeed. He quickly became aware of the need for air, and surfaced again, slowly this time. The sound was still there. The itching on his skin continued. Very strange.  
The boy moved toward the shore, and dragged his heavy body up. He walked until his bare feet touched grass. There he sat down, and tried focusing.  
Last he remembered, he fell down. He hadn't stopped falling. Or had he?  
He looked up the cliff, and saw dying smoke. Somehow it didn't upset him. Not the memory of his sister dying. Not the smell of burning flesh and screams of children.  
Instead he gazed out towards the endless sea, and focused on the voices again. They were happy. Some were sad, some were terrified. But most of them were happy.  
He wanted all of them to be happy. Every single one.  
He had a new life now. A life filled with a noble purpose.  
There was a lingering sadness as he turned his back on his former home. A promise unspoken.  
Seems like his wish was fulfilled after all.


	2. Sverige I'm right here

Far away from the sea, in a valley by a dense forest, there was a small village. The village had no name, only lovingly called a variation of "Home by the river" by the dwellers. It was in a clearing at the edge of the forest, right by a large river. This gave the villagers plenty of hunting ground and fresh water. The forest provided food and shelter in winter and by spring it brought more life to the little settlement.  
In the village, there was a boy loved by all. He would join hunts, fishing trips, and even had a firm understanding of carpentry. He was always surrounded with friends, and his mother and father were respected in the village as wise people.  
The boy dreamed of becoming a great warrior one day, like his father before him. To be a leader who could keep the peace and to ensure everyone's safety. Everything he was given, he shared with the children around him. Everything he learned, he taught others in turn.  
He gained respect like his parents, but most importantly, he made them all proud. He liked this feeling, the praise and happiness on everyone's faces.  
It was because of this the boy wished for nothing more than the continuation of this happy life.  
One day he was held inside by his mother. She seemed worried, and the boy decided he needed to make her smile again.  
She told him to not come into contact with anyone, to not touch anyone. There was a curse about, she said. A curse that would render him weak and struggling for breath.  
The boy promised her he would not touch anyone, that he wouldn't be cursed.  
Because he had become so trustworthy, his mother let him go.

His 10th winter had come, and he was spending the day in his bed. The coughing was tearing his throat apart, and he was certain his head was slowly splitting in two. He felt like he was on fire and frozen at the same time, a war between the elements inside his body.  
 _It will pass soon_ He convinced himself. _  
Father will be back soon with the herbs.  
_ His mother stayed near him at all times, holding his hand and kissing his forehead. She would mutter wishes into his hair as she held him, and the boy started to believe he would be well. After all, if mother wished for something hard enough, she'd make it happen.  
It wasn't long until the boy fell asleep again, and slept for a long, long time.

 _The day was a lovely one, filled with sunshine and a light breeze. The boy ran outside and filled his lungs with the fresh autumn air.  
Yes, the day was perfect, he decided. Especially so since he could finally be outside again.  
It was exhausting being cursed, and he was ready for some serious playtime with his friends.  
Now, where were they all? No one was outside, even in such perfect weather. He could hear no sounds but his own breathing. No birds chirping, no laughter from all the children playing, no commotion in the smith's workshop.  
Something was wrong. Maybe they were all cursed too, and he was the only one who got rid of it so quickly? The boy thought hard. He had to come up with a way to make them all better. Then, a sound from behind him.  
Of course, mother was the one who removed the curse in the first place. She would be able to help everyone. So the little boy ran back into his house, where his mother waited for him with a smile on her lips. She looked so relieved, so happy. He loved that expression.  
When he neared her, she bent down and caught him in her warm embrace, like she always would when he came home for the day. Except this time her skin was cold. SO cold he started shivering.  
"Mother, are you not well? You're so cold!" The little boy exclaimed. She had to be alright. She had to.  
Mother only kept smiling, and hugged him tightly to her chest. Then she whispered, a hoarse and gurgling sound.  
"Don't take him from me"  
It sounded sinister and sorrowful all at once, and it confused the boy. Wasn't his mother happy that he was well?  
'I'm right here' he tried to say, but no words would escape his lips.  
There was only the cold, the tight grip around him, and the screams of his mother in his ears.  
I'm right here._

There was a familiar sound gently ringing in the air. Water. Running water. Then rustling of trees nearby. There was the sound of bumblebees and flies, buzzing about.  
The air smelled of dirt and grass. Of pine and oak.  
The feeling of cold water running past, touching his legs. Like it tried to carry him along, taking him to another place far from this one.  
The boy opened his eyes, and saw blue sky and leaves hiding him from the sun's kiss.  
Slowly he sat upright, and looked down at himself. There were leather boots on his small feet, and his body was covered in a thin layer of linen and a leather vest. It seemed like he was too small for any other garments just yet. _  
_He inspected his hands. They were rough and calloused, like he was used to physical labor of some kind.  
The boy looked into the water he had come from, and stood up properly, feeling his feet sink in the sand. He could not remember anything. Where did he come from? How did he end up here all alone, soaked to the bone? All he could do was look up in the sky with a blank look on his face.  
He could not remember who he was. He could not remember who he once held dear. All he has was loneliness. He could feel something on his cheek, running down in delicate lines.  
Why was he crying?

It wasn't long until the boy had picked himself up, dried his face, and set out on his quest for companionship. He knew he had to find people to survive. Somehow, his senses told him to go south. He did not know why, but he followed his instincts and was rewarded after three long days of wandering in the forest.  
The small town greeted him warmly, and he even managed to find a couple of kind people who would take him in for the night. When the boy believed he would be thrown out the next morning, the man of the house offered to take him in permanently as his apprentice.  
The days were long and hard, filled with heavy lifting and burning metals, but soon the boy could feel himself grow stronger. The years went by, and the boy was no longer small, but a tall young man. He could even wear pants now.  
One day, the master of the forge told him he could use the day as he pleased, since it was the day he came to them in the night.  
"A fine blessing" the master called him, and ruffled his hair fondly.  
The young man chuckled and decided he would explore the forest in greater depth than he had ever done. He had come from there after all, and he had always wondered where he originated. He could remember the river, but nothing else.  
His search started there, where he woke up that fateful morning 4 years past.  
The trail, which would take him three days as a small child would now take him just a few hours. He knew these forests well, and felt a special connection when wandering through to collect firewood.  
He reached the riverside earlier than expected, and decided to follow the water upstream. He had to have been washed with the water after all, so he would have come from the north.  
The path was rocky further up, and he could feel himself grow anxious. What if his memories returned? What if he could no longer go back to the forge master and continue his life? To him, it was his only life, a happy and purposeful one. Maybe he originated in a smaller place, with a smaller fate?  
He shook his head, as if the thoughts would fall out as he did.  
He could not think like that. This trip would be a good one. He would regain his lost memories and once again become who he was. See lost loved ones. Tell them his stories, maybe craft something for them to show how much he had learned.  
Yes, that would do nicely.  
He would show everyone his skills, and he would return to the master and his wife and continue his own life. It was time for him to do so anyway, and he felt good about getting this far already.  
A few hours later he came across what looked like a village. Excitement and anticipation grew in his stomach. This was it, this was his home. He could feel it.  
Slowly he approached the small settlement, letting memories flow through his mind.  
Over there was the field he'd play in with his friends.  
He could remember running about the village, playing hide and seek. He remembered the fisherman's hut, and how he would always ask him to teach him how to fish one day. Looking in the hut now, he could see no one. Only a foul smell remained in the room.  
As he moved on, he could see the past before his eyes. The smiles on everyone's faces when he still had to look up at everyone.  
There was something wrong however. Where was everyone? The houses looked like ruins. Like someone had forgotten this place and left it to rot.  
He passed another hut, one where his best friends lived long ago. He bit his lip and stepped through the broken door. The stench was unbearable, tearing through his nose. He quickly discovered what was wrong however.  
A corpse lay to his right, against the wall. Still somewhat fresh if the skin color was anything to go by.  
There were flies making a horribly loud buzzing, and for once that buzzing wasn't a comfortable sound like it used to be.  
He turned his head in a desperate search for someone to talk to, someone to tell him what had happened. But he only found more corpses. His friends were dead and forgotten. Rotting away without someone to properly remember them. In a blind panic, the young man ran out of the hut, past several others in the same state. Past rotting wood and flesh alike, stopping only in front of the last hut before the field they grew their greens.  
His home.  
There was a difference here. There was sound from inside. Rustling and a faint moan.  
Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he pushed open the door to his past home. Inside the stench was just as horrible as the other houses, but there was someone here. Someone was still alive, he knew.  
There, in the corner on a pile of hay, was a woman frail and weak. She was moaning and coughing softly, hugging herself in her final moments. Then she turned her head, and a sudden burst of memories came to the young man.  
There was a spark in her eyes, and with her last strength she reached out, tried to touch him.  
There was a smile on her face now, no longer the pained and lonely expression she bore earlier.  
Then she was gone. Lost in the darkness beyond this world.  
The young man took hold of her hand and held it to his cheek stained with tears, and he was once again that little boy who used to play so happily in a world of kindness and peace.  
For just one moment, he turned his world back again, back to those innocent years before the world showed him it's true colors.  
"I'm right here." __


	3. Norway Good morning

His life had changed drastically the day his father died.  
He had been muttering to the air before the other villagers found his corpse, a ripped mess of limbs, under a bush near the forest entrance.  
They said it was the work of evil. Of the fae. The boy through differently. It must have been those jealous hunters. The other men who always stared at his father with harmful intent in their eyes. Those truly evil men.  
Voices agreed with him. They had started talking to him that night, whispering from the stars. From the cold, the darkness, and the earth. At first he was alarmed. He refused to speak back. Maybe the voices were evil fae after all. But slowly he began to doubt that. They whispered so gently, warned him of danger when the other children would throw things at him without him looking. Eventually he started talking back to those voices. Those gentle soothing notes in the night sky. They told him the other villagers were fearful of him now, because they could not hear them. They could not hear the voices of the earth, of the higher beings around them. And so they feared and despised them, and the chosen few who would listen.  
That is why they killed the boy's father, they hissed.  
The boy believed them, after all, the voices were nice to him. They had helped him, when the other villagers looked at him in scorn, when their children attacked him.  
No, the boy concluded, these were good voices. Good beings who were rarely seen. Of course they didn't want to show themselves to those who hated them, who feared them. They just didn't understand, the boy told them. They are stupid and fear things they do not understand.  
The voices seemed happy with this. They giggled so pleasantly and the boy found himself giggling with them.  
His mother had noticed him talking to the voices, had noticed him being harassed by the villagers.  
She didn't want her son to suffer the same fate as her husband, and rightfully so. She had seen the look in the villagers eyes. The muttering around the corner of her house. She was afraid she would lose her boy to the villagers, and not the creatures of the forest.  
So she left. Took her boy far from that cursed village who claimed the life of her beloved.

He still talked to the air next to him, but his mother no longer believed he was talking to forest creatures. Most likely the boy was talking to an imaginary friend to cope with the recent events. Losing your father and then relocating to live utterly alone would do that to you.  
Together they had constructed a hut near the edge of a forest by a large lake. Plenty of fish was to be had and they could easily wash by living close.  
The forest also provided berries and herbs, and especially logs and firewood for winter. The boy had taken up his fathers chores and was doing wonderfully. Whenever his mother told him he could slow down, or take a rest, he'd stare at her with a determined expression.  
"I have to take care of you now that father is gone" he would say, and continued with his task.  
The boy didn't stop until he was utterly exhausted, when his mother had to carry him over her shoulder and into bed.  
She felt peace for the first time in many weeks, and she hoped the villagers would never find them.

It had been almost half a year, and the two were doing great. The boy had managed to learn how to fish, and was an expert at it. They would never go hungry, and when sickness was about, his mother would use the herbs to brew a healing drink for sore throats. They lived undisturbed, until one day when the boy decided to go fishing alone on the other side of the lake. He had wanted to try in a new spot because he thought the fish was moving away from their house.  
It suited him fine, he liked walking through the grass, feeling the strands brush against his bare feet gently.  
The voices whispered to him again, suggesting a spot closer to the forest. They had never let him down, so the boy saw no harm in taking them up on that offer. They giggled again, and it sounded like they were fluttering about, like they usually did when they were pleased. The boy kept walking toward the spot where the lake brushed against the forest. Trees were hanging low above the water, so he decided to climb out on one thick branch and tossing his line out there. Like the voices promised with glee, he caught many fish that day, heavy fish too. The boy had yet to see bigger fish in this lake, and was very pleased.  
He climbed back to the grassy ground and thanked the voices, like he always did when they helped him. He never forgot his manners, or his duty.  
Then, something unexpected happened. The boy saw them. The owners of the voices.  
They were so small, dancing on roots of the trees, singing a soft song. He turned his head and saw two on his shoulders. The voices he recognised were theirs. The two small people, one girl and one boy, danced with each other and sang their praise for the boy. A lovely feast they sang, a lovely feast for all.  
The boy felt his head spin, and he felt like there was something blocking his ears. All sound was dulled but the song and the voices. Their giggles and their beckoning. He couldn't turn away, couldn't refuse their invitation. Ha had to remember his manners. It was only fair they get a piece of the food after all. They had helped him find this wonderful spot, to make sure he would never starve again.  
He walked slowly, making sure he didn't step on any of them accidentally. A feast it would be, he agreed softly. Oh, what a feast it shall be. Everyone will have a piece.  
The boy disappeared into the shadows of the forest, leaving his fishing rod and the fish behind on the grassy ground.

He could hear singing. He could hear a humming close to him. Where was he? How did he get here? He opened his eyes, and saw leaves. Sun shining through dense forest. He was lying on the ground, he realised. What was he doing on the ground?  
He felt off, like his body was not is own. Or maybe like he hadn't felt his body correctly before now?  
Something big blocked the sun. Something soft gently brushed against his cheek. Something green, something rumbling.  
He looked up and stared at the large creature gently touching him. It seemed concerned. Like he had been sleeping for too long. He blinked, and the creature blinked back. Then it opened its mouth and uttered two words.  
"Little One" it rumbled.  
The boy felt like it knew him. Like this was someone who took care of him. That was why he had been concerned. The big guardian had been concerned when he didn't wake up right away, didn't he?  
The boy slowly reached up to touch the much bigger hand on his cheek. He opened his mouth to answer his guardian. His parent.  
"Good morning."


End file.
